Driving north on Scottsdale road today, I was continually stuck behind a women in Black Mercedes. It was your garden-variety Scottsdale femme— Nordic, chiseled features, replete with obscenely expensive exercise/active wear topped off with one of those oh-so-cute little bitchy baseball caps. From my limited vantage, I could not visually confirm her tits were augmented with the ridiculous dual-viking-helmets-stuffed-under-my-shirt look.
So there she was, holding up every green light for 10+ seconds, reaching into back seat, fidgeting into an unseen purse, etc. I finally spy a cel phone wedged between her shoulder and left ear. And then I spot her steering with the base of her right elbow— she’s grasping an object–or objects–with her right hand. Chopsticks.
Fucking chopsticks.
At every green light, she’s blathering into her phone, reaching into back seat while simultaneously trying to stuff her goddamn maw with chinese food by way of chopsticks. All of this on a road with a posted 50mph (where traffic typically runs from 60-75mph).
Are we that pathetic that we must talk and eat in our car while a cavalcade of SUVs blare past us at 60+mph? What was so bloody important that she HAD TO reach into her back seat while chatting on the phone– was she an obsterician (with a penchant for sweet-n-sour pork) delivering a baby in the back seat?
Are we so distracted/detached that we can no longer communicate to each other unless it’s while we’re on a busy freeway (God forbid if we were forced to sit down and personally handwrite a letter to a friend)? Are we only able to consume meals now in our luxury sedans and not in the presence of family and friends?
Somedays I pray for that impending asteroid hit. Out of the remaining few thousand survivors, another 90% would die off from not having a single clue as to how sustain life by their own hand. The older I get, the more I think technology has had a crippling effect on our collective psyche. Jesus, what a cranky old luddite I’ve become…